


Mary Anne and the Worst Patient in the World

by escritoireazul



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Common Cold, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 14:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17427473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escritoireazul/pseuds/escritoireazul
Summary: Kristy Thomas is the worst patient in the world.





	Mary Anne and the Worst Patient in the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smithens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithens/gifts).



Kristy Thomas was the worst patient in the world.

We were supposed to be having a fun long weekend. Her mom and stepdad had taken her brothers and sister up to their vacation cabin at Shadow Lake for a week, but Kristy had sports stuff over winter break, so she had to stay behind. I’d come to stay with her for a few days so she wouldn’t be home alone the entire time.

She had been surprisingly hesitant when I suggested it.

It’ll be fun, I said.

It’ll be like old times, I said.

It’ll be like we’re visiting each other at college next year, I said.

I don't know why she was standoff-ish over it (and over nothing else, because otherwise she was as friendly and welcoming as ever). I don’t even know what argument worked, but in the end, Kristy agreed to our weekend. The second she said yes, everything changed. She went from reluctant to excited, making all these plans about what we’d do, what we’d eat, what we’d watch.

And then when I showed up, she greeted me with a stuffed-up nose, red eyes, and practically no voice.

“You should go home,” she told me. The front door was cracked open, but she wouldn't let me inside. “I’m probably contagious. I think I got this from Lucy; she was sick when I sat for her the other day. Don’t want to pass it on to you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I put my hand on the door and gave it a little push. Kristy was stronger than I am, normally, short and stout, one heck of an athlete, but she gave in under just that bit of pressure. She must be even sicker than she sounded. “I saw you yesterday and the day before and right after you baby-sat her. If I was going to catch it, I would be sick already.”

Kristy blinked at me, her eyes glassy and a little dazed. Her cheeks were bright pink and the flush spread up to her forehead and down to her throat, leaving her blotchy.

I reached out and put the back of my hand on her forehead. For a second, I was struck with a flash of vague memory, someone touching me like that, hands soft and gentle. My mom died when I was young, too young to remember anything about her, but maybe, sometimes, I got a tiny little piece of her back.

“You’re burning up!” I told Kristy.

She nodded, dislodging my hand. “My head hurts, too.”

“Have you taken any painkillers?”

She scrunched up her face into a pout worthy of a toddler. “I don’t like them.”

“I know you don’t.” I squinted at her a moment, thinking. “You should get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” Kristy said, but she yawned halfway through. I hadn’t seen her sick in a long time. She’s healthy and sporty, and I suspected the two things worked together to drive away all sorts of bugs -- or she was just too darn stubborn to catch a cold -- but that meant when she did get sick, she was a terrible patient because she wasn’t used to it.

“Okay, well, how about we watch a movie. I’ll make some food and drinks, you can get comfortable up in your room, and maybe after that you’ll feel a little better.” After cold meds, painkillers, and hot tea, too, but she’d see that soon enough.

Kristy shrugged. “Okay.”

“How about some soup?” I offered.

She smiled a little. “And grilled cheese?”

I laughed and looped my arm with hers. “Of course grilled cheese. Best kind of sick food. You find a movie, and I’ll deal with refreshments.”

Kristy headed into the family room to get a movie while I went into the kitchen to see what they had. Watson, Kristy’s stepdad, kept a well-stocked kitchen, and sure enough there were cans of soup, three types of sliced bread, and five different cheeses.

I heated up a can of chicken noodle soup in the microwave, started water boiling in a pot, and got butter out of the fridge. While everything else heated, I warmed a pan, spread butter liberally across one side of each slice of bread, and then greased the pan with a pat of butter, too.

My fingers tapped against the counter while I waited for things to heat and boil and melt and fry. I normally liked the peace of the kitchen, the sound of things cooking, the careful way ingredients and spices went together. Everything was taking way too long, though. I wanted to be upstairs with Kristy. I wanted to be watching a movie and eating good food and spending the night with my very best friend in the whole world.

I took a tray with all the food up to Kristy’s room and found her sitting in the middle of a pile of blankets on her bed. She’d moved things around so that one side of the bed was against a wall, giving us something to lean back against. She had her own television and vcr on the top of her dresser and a neat pile of tapes stood next to it.

Kristy’s room normally looked okay but a little messy, rumpled bedding, sweatshirt tossed onto a chair, but it was scrupulously clean right then. She’d made an effort for me. My heart warmed at the thought.

I set the tray on the desk and took the painkillers over to her. “Take these first,” I said.

“Since when are you the bossy one?” Kristy asked, but she did as I said, throwing them into her mouth and gulping them down with some water from the glass on her nightstand.

Pleased, I went to look at the stack of movies.

“My shortlist,” Kristy said. She untangled herself from the blankets and hauled herself out of bed. “You can choose the first one.”

“Tricky,” I told her. “Narrowing which movies I can choose. I bet there’s not a single rom-com in here.”

Kristy laughed. It trailed off into coughing, but she grabbed the glass of water sitting on her nightstand and swallowed a ton of it. When she was done, she said, “You mean smart. I know better than to give you free rein.”

I rolled my eyes. “At least they’re more interesting than all your sports movies put together. How many times can we watch an underdog team beat all the odds at the last moment while everyone learns some important lesson?”

It was hard to hide my smile. I liked those movies, too, but teasing Kristy about them was more fun than admitting the truth. Besides, she already knew it. She knew me too well.

“How many times can we watch a man and a woman fall in love, refuse to talk to each other and make all their own obstacles, and in the end ride off into the sunset even though they’re both buttheads?” Kristy countered.

“You’re antiromance,” I told her. “You don’t have a romantic bone in your body.”

She sat down in her desk chair and picked up a piece of grilled cheese. I had cut each sandwich into perfect triangles made for easy dipping in the soup. “Good! They’d get in the way of all my sports bones.”

“There’s something dirty about this conversation,” I said. “I just can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Now that’s dirty,” Kristy told me, laughing. “You’ve been talking to Stacey and Claudia, haven’t you?”

I grabbed one of the movies and put it into the vcr without showing her what I’d chosen. “Yeah, I went to check out Stacey’s new Cosmo.” My dad was far more relaxed now than he’d been when I was younger and he was a single parent, but Cosmo’s headlines were still a little too risque for him.

Kristy rolled her eyes, but her smile softened it. “I still don’t get what you like about that.”

I shrugged, grabbed the remotes and went to sit on the corner of her desk. She ate one half of her sandwich while I got everything worked out, the television on the right channel, the volume turned up but not too loud because of her headache.

“This is good,” Kristy said, mouth full. A couple crumbs spewed out onto the desk.

“Gross!” I pretend to gag. “We’re not twelve anymore.”

She stuck her tongue out at me, showing me chewed up food.

I almost gagged for real that time.

Kristy laughed as she swallowed. “I’m never going to grow up.”

“Okay, Peter Pan.”

That made her laugh harder, but after just a second, her laughter faded into a coughing fit. I set aside the remotes so I could rub her back as she bent forward over the desk. It lasted way longer than I liked, and I felt a little guilty for it.

When she was done, I handed her one of the mugs of tea. It was heavy ceramic and had a hand-drawn picture of a dog on it, more or less a border collie. Underneath, in Emily Michelle’s shaky, childish handwriting, was one word: Louie.

“Here,” I said. “Sip this. There’s honey. It’ll help your throat.”

“I swear you think you’re British,” Kristy croaked, but she did as I said. “A spot of tea fixes everything.” Her British accent was horrible, and I couldn’t help but grin down at her.

“You’re thinking of a spoonful of sugar,” I said. “But there’s no sugar for you. Only good patients get that.”

She jutted out her lower lip and gave me big, brown puppy dog eyes, but I wouldn’t be swayed. “Drink your tea. Eat your lunch. And watch your darn sports movie.”

That made her perk right up. “You chose one of my movies?” she asked, then narrowed her eyes at me. “What’s this going to cost me?”

I crossed my ankles and let my legs swing a little, innocent as anything, then started the movie. I glanced at Kristy out of the corner of my eye just in time to catch her smug little smile.

“One of the best baseball movies I’ve ever seen,” she said.

“Mmmm.” I took a small bite out of my grilled cheese, chewed it thoroughly, and swallowed. “That must be why it was on the top of the pile.”

Kristy fiddled with the crust on the second half of her sandwich. “You must be right.”

I went back to my sandwich, feeling a little smug myself. _Bull Durham_ was a pretty good sports movie, but it also had a warm, wonderful romance. I knew why she’d left it on the top of the pile, no matter how casual she tried to act.

We ate in silence. I was normally a much slower eater than Kristy, but though she devoured her sandwich pretty fast, she ate the soup with more care. She still finished before me, but not by much. I hopped off the desk and gathered our dishes ready to go downstairs.

“Don’t take them yet,” Kristy said. “Let’s finish the movie.”

“Sure.” I touched the back of my hand to her forehead again. “You’re still burning up.”

“I feel better,” she said. Even though I could still feel the heat coming off her, she did look less flushed and her voice was almost back to normal, no sign of that croak or the cough. “Cold, though.”

“More tea?”

She shook her head. “Later.” Her smile was wide. “I don’t like it near as much as you.”

“If only you had more sophisticated tastes.” I sniffed and stuck my nose into the air.

“Get over here and watch the movie with me.” She climbed back into her bed, moving the blankets around until there was a nest big enough for both of us. I grabbed a box of tissues and went to join her. We bundled up together, though I made sure most of the blankets were around Kristy; she helped me shove a couple pillows between us and the wall so it was more comfortable, and we settled in to watch the movie.

It grew warm very quickly under the blankets. Some of that was their heavy weight. Most of it was how close we sat. Heat radiated off Kristy. It was probably just a cold, but it still made me worry about her.

“Stop staring at me,” Kristy mumbled. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah, you look just great.” I bumped my elbow against her arm, gentle as anything, but I did turn my attention back to the movie.

We were almost halfway through when I felt Kristy move. She shifted the blankets around, resettled against the pillows behind us, became still.

Then, slow and soft, I felt her fingers against mine under the blankets. I caught my breath, pulled my lower lip between my teeth. Every single inch of my skin tingled, and I was inordinately aware of the slightest brush of her fingers. She touched the back of my hand, drew a slow line along my thumb, and settled her hand over mine. I twisted my hand until my palm was against hers. Our fingers fell together, soft, natural. Her palm was callused from gripping the bat, from lifting weights, from climbing over and under and around and through every obstacle that got in her way. I loved how her hands felt against me.

Kristy didn’t take her eyes off the movie. I glanced at her quickly, that strong profile I knew so well. Found my breath again. Caught myself smiling as I looked back at the television, a little goofy and happier than ever.

We held hands for the rest of the movie.

When it was done, I pulled my hand away reluctantly and slid from the warmth of the bed. “More tea,” I told her when she whined at me for moving. “And some cold medicine. You’re still too hot.”

Kristy winked at me. “I’m just the right amount of hot,” she teased. I tried to stop it, but I could feel my embarrassed flush climb up my cheeks, making my entire face burn.

“You’re certainly confident,” I told her and left her laughing as I carried our dirty plates down to the kitchen. I washed them quickly while I heated more water; I’d spent so much time here over the years that I didn’t think twice about where everything went. It was as much second nature as doing the dishes was at my home. Easier, even, because my stepmother was prone to leave things in weird places. It could be annoying, but it also made me laugh, and I loved her and all her foibles.

Kristy looked like she was half-asleep when I got back to her room with our tea and the medicine, but she woke up the second I shut the door behind me. She took the cold meds without too much complaint and even drank some of her tea.

“Want to watch another movie?” I asked. She nodded, but a big yawn stopped her from saying anything. “Or maybe I should let you take a nap.”

“I’m fine.” She put a lot of energy into those two words.

I shrugged. “Whatever you say. Thoughts on what we should watch next?”

“Your choice.”

“You must be sick, giving me this much control.” I flashed her a bright smile and went over to look through the movies again.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late!” I chirped. “And this time, it’s all romance.”

“Why?” Kristy moaned and pressed a pillow to her face. I could still hear her muffled “Why do you hate me?”

I chose to let that go and put in The Cutting Edge. Technically, it did have sports as well as romance, though I already knew it wouldn’t have enough hockey for Kristy, but it was one of my favorites. I loved their sharp wit, and it was one of the most satisfying endings to a sports movie I’d ever seen.

Kristy groaned when she saw what I had chosen, but I caught a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. I crawled back into bed with her; it took a good few minutes to get the blankets and pillows arranged comfortably again, and by the time we were done, Kristy was leaning against my side.

She covered a yawn with her fist. Romantic movie, cold medicine, being sick -- I gave her thirty minutes, tops.

She only made it fifteen before she was slumped over, her head in my lap, snoring quietly because her nose was stuffed up. I turned up the television a little, not enough to bother her but enough that I could hear it over her, and settled in to watch.

I idly stroked my fingers through her hair, smoothing it off her face. It was weird to see her still; she was a constant bundle of energy, running here, racing there. She was short and compact, but strong, and she had more energy than any ten people I knew.

She was gentled here, still and trusting, content to let me take care of her.

She trusted me.

That was the best feeling in the world.

 

 

 

 

I dozed off sometime after the movie ended, half-bent over Kristy. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but I liked where I was, and I couldn’t make myself move and potentially wake her up.

She was awake when I woke up awhile later. Sometime while I’d been asleep, she’d maneuvered us around so that we were stretched out side by side, her bed more than big enough for us to lie together.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Kristy propped herself up on one arm and smiled down at me.

I stretched. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” The flush was gone from her cheeks, and her coughing seemed to have stopped. She still sounded stuffed up, but overall, it was a marked improvement. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

I touched her cheek. “Anytime, you know that.” Then I laughed. “Sometimes a baby-sitter needs a baby-sitter, you know.”

Probably I should have seen the pillow coming.

She kissed me after, laughing, and despite the threat of germs, I cuddled close.


End file.
